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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011076">A Cold and Stifled Beauty</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/You_Hamburgled_My_Heart/pseuds/You_Hamburgled_My_Heart'>You_Hamburgled_My_Heart</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Slow Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:14:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,611</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/You_Hamburgled_My_Heart/pseuds/You_Hamburgled_My_Heart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rosalie Hale died young and she could never let go of the life she once had. Rosalie's heart has been long since frozen over until a girl from Phoenix moves to town to bring her the fire she needs . . . </p><p>Just a fanfiction of Rosalie and Bella. Alice and Bella ships are overrated and Myers did Rosalie dirty.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rosalie Hale/Bella Swan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*Content Warning!* Sexual assault</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     I was glad for the dark, seedy alley that opened up to my left in a way I didn’t think it was possible. I was nearly jogging, the only thing stopping me being the fear of falling flat on my face and losing any distance I had. Still, it was possible I wasn’t being followed.</p><p><br/>
     That is, until the two men turned the corner as well. <em>Shit. Okay, time to risk speeding up.</em> I hurried down the alley, eager to emerge into the space beyond for the possibility that it might be populated by at least one person. I found myself in a parking lot. It was nestled in between a row of buildings that wrapped around it like a horseshoe. The lot was deserted except for a single car and two men to my right. I couldn’t even be hopeful for a second as they were looking at me, closing distance, and coming from the sole exit. I was being herded. I kept my eyes on them as I shuffled backwards, hitting a wall. <em>Fuck.</em></p><p><br/>
     They closed in on me, surrounding me. My body lost all will to fight as they grabbed me and pushed me against a wall. I seemed to leave my body. My eyes fixated ahead of me in between the peaks of two different shoulders.</p><p><br/>
     A red convertible sat outside a garage some 20 meters away in stark contrast to the dinginess of it’s surroundings. The concrete walls were cracked with stains so pronounced I could make them out in the light that was mounted over the building’s rusty garage door. It was probably a bright floodlight maybe a decade before, but now age had turned it’s beam into a dim flicker.. The windows above the shop boasted cardboard in place of curtains and an AC unit that had half-fallen and probably hung from a single bolt. The building probably smelt like piss.<br/>
Just then, as I barley felt the claws feeling at me and tugging at my clothes, the door of the garage opened. The figure paused for a moment. In the daze of my mind, the person seemed to run so fast they made it towards us in a single lunge.</p><p><br/>
     Long, blond hair. It was a girl. She tore the men off me. I think I heard a couple yelps of pain. I was dragged —or so I presumed, for my legs didn’t seem to be working— to the and shoved into the back seat. In my warped sense of time, she seemed to circle around to the front seat in a flash.</p><p><br/>
     “Where are you parked?” She sounded annoyed.</p><p><br/>
     It took me a moment to respond. Based on how out of touch I was with time at the moment, it could have been hours. “I- I came with friends.”</p><p>     “Perfect,” she huffed. “So? Where are they?”</p><p>     The quiet of the car was heavy as she drove me to Jessica’s and Angela’s last known location. “You can let me out here” I said when we were outside the dress shop. Even in my dazed state I could tell she wanted me gone.</p><p>     “No, It’s not safe for you to be out here past dark. I guess I can wait in the car while you check to see if they are in there.” She said this like she was doing me an honor.</p><p>     It was only just then I realized how badly I was shaking. I hadn’t really been aware of my body at all. “I can’t.” I muttered.</p><p>     She turned her head to the back seat. “Oh, of course you can’t,” she said with the slightest twinge of sympathy. I looked upon a beautiful face, pale as milk, with gleaming topaz eyes; a face I recognized immediately. It was Rosalie Hale.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Velvet Rope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bella tells us all about Rosalie Hale.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>               Rosalie Hale was a grade above me, but it was impossible not to know her. To say her and her adopted family stood out would be an understatement. They were all beautiful in an untouchably alien way. In the cafeteria each day, they could be seen keeping entirely to themselves. The table added a sort of finality to their isolation, like a piece of art behind a velvet rope. They were in a place the rest of us could never tread.</p><p>               Out of all of them, Rosalie stood out the most. She was tall, with a model’s physique. Soft waves of golden silk fell halfway down her slender back. Her face was the pinnacle of Eurocentric beauty, with a thin, heart shaped face, a slender nose and skin of pure ivory. Her eyes, sometimes a glittering topaz and other times a magnetic black, nestled themselves in full lashes and a faint, yet lingering shadow on her lower lids. She wasn’t a human so much as marble statue made flesh. Perhaps the model for an angel captured in fresco on the ceiling of a church.</p><p>               There were “mean girls” in Pheonix. Popular girls who ruled the school. Rosalie easily could have been one of them. She had all the fixings; besides her beauty, there was an air of smugness about her. Like she knew she was better than everyone else at that school.</p><p>                Yet, she remained an outcast. She had no interest in anyone outside of her family. No doubt, popularity was easily attainable for her, so one can only assume this was a choice she made, not a matter of fate like it is for most of us. I would have assumed half of the male population of the school had asked her out if I didn’t know first-hand how completely unapproachable she was.</p><p>                 She was so curious and so mysterious that, even barring her stunning beauty, I couldn’t look away.</p><p> </p><p>                 And here I was, In the back of her car.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Boring, huh? I just gotta figure out where I'm going from here lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Note</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>               “Where do you live,” she asked.</p><p>               “Forks.” I didn’t bother with the address. Nearly everything was off the damn highway. All it would take was a <em>turn left here</em> and a <em>its just this house here on the right</em>. She turned back for a moment as if to check if she recognized me. It was even possible she could have. The whole school seemed hyperaware of <em>the</em> <em>new girl</em>. Why not Rosalie Hale?</p><p>                But of course, why would Rosalie Hale notice something like that either? Why wouldn’t the rest of us be like birds to her, inconsequentially perched on the trees she passes as she maneuvers through her life. An occasional sighting or audible chirping the only mark we make on her life. The scenery. There was no recognition in her eyes.</p><p>*</p><p>                 She drove like a maniac in her red BMW. I couldn’t tell if the road was relatively clear or if I just couldn’t make out other cars as she bound past them. I didn’t mind it though. My head resting on the seat and turned to look out with window, I viewed the world like a dream.</p><p>                It’s a funny thing, I imagine—driving that fast. There must be a sense of control in it. You steer the vehicle and set its speed. And yet, you’re propelled forward. You have the power to steer but only within reason. Not sharp turns, no reversing. And to stop? Well, all you can really do is push on the brakes and hope your car can skid to a stop in time. I think I prefer my old truck.</p><p>*</p><p>               Still, she drove me home safe and sound. The whole car ride was silent. She didn’t say a word after asking where I lived. When I stepped out of the car, I meant to move to the passenger side window. I guess I thought she would roll the window down and I could thank her without it feeling like a taxi service I didn’t pay for.</p><p>                Instead, the moment I left the vehicle she drove away, as fast as ever.</p><p>              I crawled into bed instantly. I didn’t both to change out of my clothes. I simply wanted to sleep.</p><p>*</p><p>               The next day when I woke up, I couldn’t stand the idea of going to school. Somehow, this made me feel spoiled. Maybe childish. Barely anything happened the night before. It could have been way worse if it wasn’t for her.</p><p>              So instead, I took a shower, determined to at least make it to second period. I got dressed in some clean clothes before removing them and taking another shower. In a second set of clean clothes, I decided to throw away the things I was wearing last night. And finally, just to be safe, I had a bath. I looked at the clock. 10:30. <em>Crap, I’m missing second too. </em>I got dressed in my coziest pair of sweatpants and crawled back into bed.</p><p>               I stayed there for several days.</p><p>               I told Charlie I was on my period. That kept him from asking questions. I got several calls from Jessica on behalf of the group. By the third phone call I picked up and told her I had a cold. All was quiet. Just me and my bed.</p><p>               I don’t really know quite how long I had been in bed when there was a knock on my door. After I ignored it, the knocking turned into pounding. Soon, the pounding started to form into a headache.</p><p>               I hobbled down to the door, not sure what I was expecting. Probably something in tune with debt collectors coming to demand payment for a debt brought on by a gambling addiction I had no idea Charlie had. Or maybe it was the big, bad wolf. What I wasn’t expecting was Rosalie Hale.</p><p>               She thrust my jacket at me and spoke with a voice of indignation. “I have been carrying this around with me for four days.” When I took it from her, my finger grazed the side of her hand. It was cold.</p><p>               “Thank you for saving me. And for the jacket,” I said, looking down at the floor, my voice dropping with every word. When I looked up, she was gone. I didn’t hear her footsteps.</p><p>               I don’t even know if she heard my apology. That pissed me off. What is the point of saving my life, bringing me home and even returning my jacket if she was going to treat me like a lesser being? My anger brought be a brief surge of energy but it soon deflated back into a heavy sort of fatigue. Before collapsing on the couch, I tossed the jacket into the trash bin in the kitchen.</p><p>*</p><p>               I didn’t realize Charlie was home until he called out to me.</p><p>               “Bella?”</p><p>               “Yes, dad?”</p><p>               “Did you mean to throw away this jacket?”</p><p>               “Yeah, I wanted to get rid of it. I doesn’t fit anymore,” I lied.</p><p>               “Well you don’t need to throw it away. I’ll bring it by the charity shop on my way to work tomorrow.” He had it folded over his arm, <em>the damn thing</em>. He added, “Also, you could have bothered to empty out your pockets.”</p><p>               He handed me a folded piece of paper. I didn’t remember that being in there. I opened it up to find an elegant scrawl, foreign to my own neat yet boring hand:</p><p>              </p><p>
  <em>You are a human.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The wonderful part about that is that you get to wake up</em>
</p><p>
  <em>everyday and decide what you are going to do with your life.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Don’t let those monsters take that away from you.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>            The note wasn’t signed, yet I knew who wrote it. I folded it up neatly and placed it in my desk drawer. The next morning, I went to school. There wasn’t much reasoning behind it other than that I kind of wanted to see Rosalie Hale.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Sick of it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A short chapter. Nothing special.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>              I lingered in the halls between first and second period, scanning. Not that it would take a keen eye to notice a tall blonde who looked like a supermodel. I don’t know what I was expecting to happen when I saw her. Still, every approaching footstep seemed to hold my full attention. None of them belonged to her.</p><p>*</p><p>               In the cafeteria, her and her family sat at their usual table. All throughout lunch, I turned to her periodically. She never looked back.</p><p>               I new better than to approach her. It would probably turn out like some teen movie. Misunderstanding leads lame teen to talk to the popular girl; encounter ends with someone’s lunch tray being poured over the poor kid’s head. In this case the misunderstanding was that I register in her existence as anything more than an insect. That I matter. That the brief moments of compassion I saw from her meant anything.</p><p>               I was officially sick of it. I was sick of her acting nice one second than being aloof the next.</p><p>               But most of all, I was sick of not being able to get her out of my head.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Working on another, bigger and more exciting chapter but school is killing me right now and i want it done right.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a reminder Twilight is set during the 90's</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>My truck wouldn’t start this morning. With each turn of the key the engine would fizzle out. At least it was only about twenty minutes to school. An easy walk, nearly all along the highway. I changed into a more comfortable pair of shoes.</p><p>                                                                           *</p><p>               Mike caught up with me after science class.</p><p>               “Are you sure you can’t go to the dance?” Mike gave a very convincing kicked puppy look. Mike was walking with me on the way to P.E.</p><p>               “For the last time, Mike, no.” This was getting old. I wondered If I should tell him. At the very least it would shut him up. “We have gym together, you should no better than anyone how bad an idea that would be.”</p><p>               “Well maybe we could get dinner sometime?”</p><p>               “You’re a great guy Mike, really. It’s just . . .” <em>Do I say it</em>?</p><p>               “You’re just not into me.” It was statement, not a question, oozing with dejection.</p><p>               “Mike—” <em>I have to say it</em>.</p><p>               “It’s fine,” he resolved, with a poorly manufactured composure as he began to turn away from me.</p><p>               “I like women, Mike,” I admitted. <em>Fuck, I said it</em>. Mike was a good guy, in the boy-next-door, puppy dog kind of way. I didn’t want to hurt him and figured the least offensive way to reject someone was to let them know the reason you’re not interested is because of factors outside of either of your control.  Still, I would be lying if I didn’t admit I regretted by confession the moment I said it.</p><p>               He looked at me briefly, stunned, before redirecting his gaze to my shoes. All he said was “Oh.”</p><p>               “Yeah, so maybe you should reconsider going with Jessica.” He continued to look at the ground, awkwardly silent so I used that opportunity to leave. I whipped around the corner pf the hall, relatively flustered, when I made contact with someone.</p><p>               She hardly seemed to stagger even though I made a direct impact with her. I immediately scrambled back. She remained steady, like a brick wall, leaning against the wall and facing out towards me. I hoped she didn’t hear me and Mike’s conversation, not that it mattered. The chances were good Mike would tell everyone.</p><p>               “You’re an idiot.” She said it with not malice. Just stating a fact. Well, guess she heard it. I would never have admitted she was right, but right in that moment I was feeling like a bit of an idiot. Still, Rosalie wasn’t helping me feel any better.</p><p>               It was aggravating. She saved me and wrote me that note, both suggesting a kind of compassion. Yet the way she looked at me with a cold disdain, like I was large and muddy puddle that threatened to sully her otherwise spotless shoes, told me otherwise.</p><p>               “I guess you regret saving me, huh?” That was how she made me feel. Something flickered in her eyes, like a stinging disbelief and I was enjoying it. “Who knows, maybe they would have killed me”.</p><p>               She closed the distance I had made and her onyx black eyes burned down at me. Not mad or annoyed, as I was used to, just burning. They were strong and commanding and I was stuck there, immobile in the power they held. We held eye contact for a moment. A single excruciating and intoxicating moment. With a stern tone, she said, “Don’t ever say that.”</p><p>               And with that, she walked past me and down the hall. I remained, feeling betrayed by my pounding heart. She was always so cold, with a face of chiseled marble. Yet, just then, she looked to me like a flame. And I was left consumed, am effigy of coal and ash.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>               I stopped on the walk home at a small bridge where the highway crossed a creek. It was made of old, worn bricks, rough and chalky beneath my hands. I leaned over the side to the steady stream below. The banks were lined with lichen-covered trees and dense foliage that licked the water. Occasionally there were rocky shores. On one such shore, a bird bathed itself in a puddle that formed on the uneven ground. It was a scene full of life. Forks was the polar opposite of Phoenix and that was something I would never get used to. But this wasn’t bad. Just different. Still, I would rather be home.</p><p>               In was the jarring blasting of a horn that pulled me from the scenery. A brief look over my shoulder told me a car pulled over suddenly on the other side of the bridge. Must have cut someone off. <em>Well, time to go home. </em>Just when I was about to straighten up and turn towards home, I was yanked backwards by my elbow.</p><p>               She nearly pulled me into her as I stumbled back. A distressed, furrow-browed Rosalie Hale demanded of me, “What are you doing?”</p><p>               “Walking home,” I said, puzzled at her urgency. “What are <em>you </em>doing?”</p><p>               “I was—” she staggered, “With what you said earlier, I—” An unsettled Rosalie was something I could get used to.</p><p>               “What I said?”</p><p>               “I thought you were going to—” She nodded her head to the side of the bridge.</p><p>               I picked up on her meaning. “No. I was just looking at the creek.”</p><p>                She gave a quick and quiet, “oh”, a signal of her embarrassment. Once again, it surprised me that she cared. And it annoyed me. I knew she was just going to turn around and treat me with contempt any second now. It would be better if she wasn’t nice at all. Of course, I’m sure she didn’t actually care. Once again, she probably just didn’t want not saving me to weigh on her conscious.</p><p>                Either way, there was a more pressing issue. “How’d you get here so fast?”</p><p>                “What?” She looked, for a moment, like a deer in headlights before reverting back to her regular aloof demeanor.</p><p>              “Your car is on the other side of the bridge,”</p><p>               She answered calmly, “That’s where I parked it.”</p><p>               “Yes, and right after you parked it, you were here, pulling at my arm,”</p><p>                Looking me directly in the eyes she offered her retort: “I mean, I ran across the highway, Bella, but I think you must have been pretty lost in thought. I didn’t teleport, if that’s what you think.” Where her eyes earlier were fiery, she was once again cold and ridged, looking more like a porcelain doll making excuses then a real human. Still, she said my name for the first time. I’ll admit, it shook me for a moment. And by shook, I mean it sent a shiver through me. I didn’t even know that she knew it. I never told it to her. I mean, sure, I was the new kid and all but she didn’t seem like the type to care about that kind of news.   </p><p>                Not that I was going to let her distract me. “I had a pretty good grasp on time, Rosalie. Which is why I don’t understand how you got here so fast.”</p><p>               “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” she said, with a cocked brow.</p><p>               “I want an explanation,” I demanded.</p><p>               She huffed. “For what? I’m athletic. That’s all”.</p><p>               The thing is, it wasn’t just this. I couldn’t help being reminded of that night. She really was fast. It was like she was across the parking lot one moment and there the next. A blur. Sure, my head was fuzzy that evening. I could have just been imagining it. But here she was again being way too fast. So, maybe I wasn’t.</p><p>               “Well maybe you should try out for the Olympics. You could get gold with that sprint.”</p><p>              Crossing her arms, she declared, “Well, if you aren’t going to let it go I guess I will be on my way. Clearly, I had no reason to be concerned.” She began to walk back towards her car.</p><p>              I was still thinking about that night. Why was she there? It seemed an odd place for her to be. Some seedy parking lot past dark. And she came out of one of the buildings. I had resigned myself to asking her.</p><p>               “Rosalie, wait.” I said, stepping towards her. What I didn’t expect was for her to step back into me, our bodies making contact. We both froze for a second. She leaned slightly above me and pierced me with coal-black eyes, tinged with surprise.</p><p>               “Sorry I—” I sputtered.</p><p>               A change swept over her face that stopped me in my tracks. A grimace of pure disgust, complete with a wrinkled brow and sneering lips. She began to back away, retreating, once again, to her car.</p><p>               “Uh, see you around,” she said and, as she turned around, I could see her pinching her nose.</p><p>               I immediately checked by breath and my underarms. No problems here.</p><p>               <em>Okay, that was fucking rude</em>.</p>
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